Junko, the Innocent Child
by Rurouni Idoru
Summary: It's been said that Vash the Stampede changes the lives of everyone he meets. This is one such story, about an aspiring (but failing) musician. Rated just in case.


Rurouni's Note: Just the story of one more person who's life Vash changes permanently. Of course, she may have a surprise for him as well....

Disclaimer: I don't own Trigun, and I don't own "Adia." I'm not nearly that brilliant. I do own Junko, though. Don't sue me, don't take my OC, and enjoy.

Junko, the Innocent Child

By the Rurouni Idoru

_'Cause we are born innocent..._

_Believe me Adia, we are still innocent..._

_It's easy, we all falter..._

_Does it matter?..._

The voice rang clearly through the beer hall. The singer was so sick of hearing that voice. She wanted, just for once, to hear someone else's voice. Possibly someone braver than she. She was so tired of singing day in and day out, in that boring, standard beer hall. It looked like something out of a cartoon, and it smelled even sillier, with all the air fresheners they used to cover up the booze. She was so tired of getting those butterflies in her stomach before every performance. She wanted to be able to enjoy herself on stage, and instead, she managed to find butterflies that needed to have a flyswatter taken to them. But, she put up with them. She had such a rotten mix of traits. There was that extreme shyness, her unrelenting stoicism, her desire for stardom, and her voice. She always knew that when her parents told her she had a "beautiful voice," it would lead her into trouble. And she was standing smack-dab in the middle of trouble. She started singing at the hall in order to help her get "discovered," but now she found herself relying on the small paycheck she got for providing entertainment. Not to mention what a favorite she was with the regulars, which would likely cause chaos if she left. Not that she cared, really. If the drunks killed each other because they missed her singing, then it was their own faults for having no control over their drinking habits. And yet, somewhere deep inside, she retained the feeble hope that, if she kept singing in public, she just might be "discovered." She remembered the words of her grandmother: "Always have faith." Grandma had been full of wisdom. She had even lived on Earth during its last inhabitable years. Grandma's sister, her great aunt, had been on the crew that had found planet Gunsmoke. Grandma would talk about Great Aunt Rem a lot. Apparently, Great Aunt Rem's past gave her "connections." Grandma never said what those "connections" were, but it was just as well. Even as a young girl, Grandma had been so smart and cultured that she had been able to spend a year in an Earth country called Japan. That was where her own name came from. Junko, meaning "innocent child." So it was an innocent child, given one of her grandmother's favorite names, singing a song from long before her own ancestry could be traced, in that dirty beer hall.

_'Cause we are born innocent..._

She would always be innocent, she could tell. And she hated it. Only those who were cutthroat and ruthless made it in the entertainment world. She wanted to be the kind of person who could blow the competeion away, and not even care. How she hated that she wasn't.

Until he walked in. He was what Grandma had called Junko's "connections." Of course, had Junko known, she'd still want nothing to do with it. It happened when she was on a break, after a performance. That was when he walked in. She was sitting alone at the only table with any free seats. She watched as he ordered, shockingly enough, donuts. What was socking was not only that they actually served donuts at the beer hall (anything for a double dollar, Junko supposed), but that he wanted them so badly that he came in here looking for them. She looked around at the room forlornly. No, still not another free seat in the house, besides the three that were left at her own table. Obviously, the stranger would have to take his large plate of donuts tp her table. Of course, she saw no reason why he would have to sit next to her and strike up a conversation.

"Want one?" Those were the first words out of his mouth. She had been brooding again, mulling over the destiny she had made for herself. Only when he offered a donut to her did she dare to look up into those seafoam eyes. Seafoam...Grandma taught her that word. She found him impossible to ignore, so good-natured and cheery.

"Um, no. No thank you." She tried to avoid his kind eyes. Oh, how she hated it when she felt like brooding, and something couldn't help but make her happy.

"Okay then. Just thought a donut might make you feel a little better. You look sorta sad." Why did this man she had never even seen before insist on talking to her? She was, after all, on her break.

"Oh, well...I don't think the donut would've helped much anyway." Why, she asked herself, did she feel the need to reply every time he spoke? She then told herself that she was a moron for not realizing earlier that it was because she was being polite. Grandma said that Great Aunt Rem firmly beleived in all around kindness and justice, and that started with politeness. And Grandma always said that Great Aunt Rem was one of the best people she had ever known.

"A donut won't make you feel any better? Really? It must be pretty serious!" He smiled at her, and suddenly, she found herself speaking to him as if they were good friends. Even though they didn't even know each other's names.

"Oh, it is. It really, really is. There's only one thing that could make me feel any better." At the table next to them, a drunken brawl was brewing. At this point in her "career," she was used to it. When an empty beer bottle flew out of the brawl, Junko instinctively ducked without even batting an eye. The stranger, however, was new at this. The bottle hit him square in the face. The bottom aligned with his chin, while the neck shot upwards into his hairline, and seemed to lead the way for the rest of his golden-blonde hair, which followed upwards beautifully. She tried to no avail to avoid giggling. "I'm sorry, after a while you sorta learn to duck. Fights happen a lot here a lot. I guess I should have warned you." The bottle fell from his face, where it had evidently left an imprint. He laughed nervously. The man was extremely forgiving, considering she had not only handed him her emotional burden, but let him get smashed in the face. In fact, he even invited her to go for a walk with him while he finished off his donuts. Junko sensed something strange about the man. Like she knew him or something. He was too friendly. It was weird. But, they went walking anyway. Not only did they walk, but they talked. They talked about what felt like everything. Junko found him smart and witty. It was as if he were decades ahead of his age.

"And that was when I said, 'This land is made of love and peace!'" He finished off another of his tales, and she laughed.

"Love and peace seems to be a big theme with you." He chuckled at her remark. The words "love and peace" had only appeared in about half of his stories. "You know, I feel like I've known you all my life, and you don't even know my name."

"Well look at that! I have no CLUE what your name is! Why don't you tell me?" She smiled warmly.

"Junko. It means 'innocent child.' My Grandma picked it out." She swept her dirty blonde hair behind her ear. "What about you?" His smile widened.

"Vash." The reality of the name did not take long to sink in. Vash.

"Vash? As in, like..." She warily, shiftily glanced around, "...the Stampede?" His head titled backwards a little, and he scratched the back of his neck while laighing nervously.

"Yeah, I guess you got me there. You're one of very few people who figured that out, you know!" Junko's mouth hung open in horror. He was laughing! She realized she could turn him in. And at least, if she couldn't manage that, she could possibly scare him into acting normally by threatening to do so.

"You know, I...I could turn you in, I could! I could right now! I'd be rich! Set for life! I'd never have to set foot in that stupid place again, and and and...I could turn you in!" He looked thoughtful for a moment. She was shaking, and her timid inner-child was speaking for her, stuttering and breathing erratically.

"I know that, I guess. But something just sorta tells me you won't." Her jaw dropped. Her rigid shoulders went slack and her arms hung limply at her sides. He was right. She wouldn't turn him in. She couldn't. She didn't have the heart. It suddenly occured to her: all of those stories, all of that talk of love and peace.... She knew that there was no way he had intended to tell her that he was the Humanoid Typhoon, so it couldn't have been to cover for his misdeeds.... Grandma's tidbits of wisdom flooded her mind. "Don't judge a book by its cover," "You shouldn't beleive everything you read." She vaguely remembered something about stepping on ants, along with thousands of other things Grandma had said. She was breathing heavily, trying to figure him out. Meanwhile, he was rambling. "You kinda remind me of someone I once knew. Someone I cared about very much." Junko, of course, wasn't listening. Finally, she came up with the one question she wanted to ask.

"Is it true that all those people died because of you?" she blurted. She immediately regretted it, and clapped her hands to her mouth. She winced, braced for impact, and started saying silent prayers. Her eyes teared up, as she prepared for death, and then...nothing. Maybe a slight breeze, but that was all. She cracked open one heavily made-up eye, then the other quickly after. He seemed lost in deep thought, as if he was trying to recall where he put something important. "I...I'm sorry I asked that. It must not be a subject you like talking about. My mouth acted before my brain, and...well...."

"Junko!" Junko turned to see the beer hall's owner hanging out of the doorway. "Break's over. Time for your next performance." Junko nodded, and the man went back inside. During every different performance, she would choose a variety of songs. No two combinations were ever the same. However, in every mix, she put in her favorite song, one called "Adia." She had never quite understood the words, she just loved the tune and that low, sweet, melancholy sound. For this performance, she was already trying to think of some songs that reminded her of her new acquaintance.

"You know...You're welcome to come and watch me, if you like. I'll even pay for your food, if you want, I have a few double dollars...." Why she so wanted his forgiveness, she had no idea. But he had said nothing for some time now. She lowered her eyesto the ground, and sadly, slowly, gently stepped inside.

She already had the songs arranged hin her head. She waited for her cue, but she didn't have to wait long. She decided to start off with "Adia," and stepped through the opening in the curtains and up to the microphone. She glanced up heavy-heartedly at the audience of drunken men...and saw one face that was differenct from the rest. A happy, smiling face, behind a large plate of donuts, that seemed to say, "good luck." She took a deep breath, smiled, and began singing. As soon as she finished "Adia," her usual nervousness melted away, and she sang the way she did when she was alone, at home. Never had she felt so free in front of a crowd, so confident about a performance. Of course, the entire time, she was secretly looking at that nonjudgemental, jolly face, lined with donut crumbs. She nearly giggled audibly several times when he applauded. He was usually mid-donut when the songs ended, so he was likely to applaud with the donut still in his mouth, or clap with a donut taking most of the force of his other hand. Even when he cheered like a normal person, he managed to look like a goofball. He even fell directly out of his chair when she sang one song. She didn't know why he looked so shocked, it was a nice song. She never understood it, it was about a pebble and a waltz of something, but Grandma had taught it to her, and she had always loved it. Grandma had said that it was Great Aunt Rem's most favorite song, and she sang it whenever she was happy. Vash applauded wildly when she finished that one. Junko supposed that the song did have quite a cheering effect. She finally closed off the set with an encore of "Adia."

_'Cause we are born innocent..._

_Believe me Adia, we are still innocent..._

_It's easy, we all falter..._

_Does it matter?..._

The crowd went insane. It was her best performance yet. She was so ecstatic that, instead of disappearing behind the curtains as she usually did, she hopped right off the stage and took a deep bow. She fully intended to thank Vash for the self-confidence he had given her during the entire rest of her break. Of course, when she got to him, she couldn't find the ability to speak. When her voice finally returned to her, the first thing she said was not, "thank you," to be sure.

"I hate this place." She shocked even herself, and it showed. But, having began the statement, she decided to continue the tirade. "It's always the same, every day, and I've always hated being around alcohol, and the place not only looks like a joke, but it smells that way too, and I hate this planet, and the sand, and the dust, and the dirt! I want water, and music, and love, and happiness, and, oh, just so many other things that just sort of flow, and I've had no one to talk to since Grandma died, and that was so many years ago, and no one cares enough anymore to askwhat's wrong, and now I'm throwing all my problems at you, and just...oh!" And with that, she was submerged in tears, mascara running down her face rapidly. She huddled against the table. And it happened.She knew she had someone she could count on. She knew this when Vash, the famous outlaw, Vash the Stampede, the annoying donut man who was interrupting her previous break, a man she had met not three hours ago, hugged her and gave her a shoulder to cry on. She needed a good cry like the planet needed a good rainstorm, and just like the rain without dry land under it, it's not a good honest cry unless you have a shoulder to do it on. "By the way," she sniffed, muffled by Vash's broad shoulder, "thank you."

After Junko had cleaned the mascara stains from her face, she went outside with Vash again. She felt so much more mature now. She looked at the buildings ahead, with the dramatic image of the setting suns as a backdrop.

"I hate the color beige, you know. It's only good for, like, clothes and furniture. Not for land. Land should be green and deep brown and moist. Places where people live should have grass and trees. Places where people live should have lakes, and rivers, and oceans. Grandma used to say that, back on Earth, there used to be bodies of water as vast and blue as the sky. She used to tell me about swimming. There was so much water on Earth, you could dance and float in it. Not here, though. Everything dries up so quickly here." There was silence, as they both considered this. After a moment, she spoke again. "I don't think you did it. All those crimes you're accused of? I don't think any of it was your fault. I think maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe you made a mistake or something. It's like Grandma used to say: 'It was like stepping on ants on the pavement. You didn't realize you did it until it was too late to fix it.' Is that right?" He was doing that silent thing he did when things got serious. That thing he did where one could tell he was thinking, but one wasn't sure if it was even on the topic of the conversation he was in. For all Junko knew, he was thinking about why Jell-O doesn't dissolve back into a liquid at any point after it becomes solid. "I understand. Bad things happen, and we can't control it or change it." She glanced at that bright red coat that he was wearing. Instead of pondering why he was wearing a leather trenchcoat in the desert, as she usually would, she contemplated the coat's color. "That's one color I'll always love. My great aunt loved it too, at least that's what Grandma said. My great aunt loved flowers, and red one best of all." Vash looked at her oddly, as if checking to see if she were telling the truth. But now, it was her turn to be silent and solemn. Again, she changed the subject. "How come you fell off your chair when I sang that one song about the pebble?" At last, he spoke.

"Someone I cared about very much loved that song. I just didn't think you'd know it, that's all."

"My Grandma taught me that song. She said her sister loved it. Sang it whenever she was feeling cheerful. My Grandma loved her sister very much. She said she was sure I was her reincarnation. Said because of her, I've got 'connections.' Said she helped find this planet." Vash nearly fell over again. While Junko had blonde hair and blue-grey eyes, and she wore a lot of clunky jewelery, he was sure now he could see the same glimmer reflected in her eyes that he saw in Rem's so many years ago.

"Junko, time for your next performance." The owner. He came and put an end to her philosophical time. Junko stood up and smiled.

"Thank you again for releasing those butterflies in my stomach. I'll never forget that." The owner walked inwithout Junko, sighing and rolling his eyes. Musicians were so melodramatic. Junko sighed and her semi-sad smile widened a little. "Until we meet again, Vash the Stampede...." And she walked in without another word.

It was a strange thing, she thought, but after her crying spell, Junko somehow suddenly understood exactly what the lyrics to "Adia" meant. And she was happy to be innocent now. She wanted to stay that way forever. After all, innocence was a rare quality on the planet Gunsmoke.

_'Cause we are born innocent..._

_Believe me Adia, we are still innocent..._

_It's easy, we all falter..._

_Does it matter?..._


End file.
